#Eighty Six Legion

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Hadrian's Wall

Hadrian's Wall is an impressive masterpiece of military engineering built along steep ups and downs that cross space and history between England and Scotland.

The old wall, sculpted for almost 2000 years by wind and rain, climbs over hills, immerses itself in a moor to suddenly resurface among the blades of light of a wood, a karst presence that seems to absorb the energy of landscape to challenge its gravity and logic in a rollercoaster of harsh ups and downs that cross space and history.

Hadrian's Wall is no longer England but it is not yet Scotland, even if the land to the north seems wilder.

But perhaps it is just a state of mind of those who look at it, subtly altered by the emotion of treading the same stones on which the Roman legionaries walked.

In reality, unlike what many believe, the Wall is within English territory, even if it has helped define the borders of the two countries since the emperor from whom it takes its name ordered its construction in 122 AD to "separate the Romans from the barbarians," the hostile tribes of the Picts who populated today's Scotland, a tough nut to crack even for the Roman legions.

To build it in just six years, about fifteen thousand men were employed, three legions that faced the challenges of a terrain carefully chosen to exploit its advantages.

The result is an impressive masterpiece of military engineering, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1987, stretching from one coast of England to the other for eighty Roman miles, about one hundred and seventeen kilometers from Solway Firth to the west and Wallsend to the east.

It is one of the many place names linked to its existence and then extending southwards with ports and coastal fortifications.

For nearly three centuries, Hadrian's Wall was northernmost and most fortified boundary of the Roman limes, a gigantic defensive system that stretched for over five thousand kilometres — from the Atlantic coast of Great Britain to the Black Sea across Europe — then continuing through present-day Middle East to Red Sea and from there cutting across North Africa to the Atlantic.

The 117km long (80 Roman miles) Hadrian's Wall was punctuated by 14 main forts, 80 minor ones and 2 watchtowers every third of a mile.

In addition to the actual wall, mainly made of stone, about 5m high and up to 3m thick, becoming six metres thick in the earthen sections, the Wall was reinforced by a ditch bristling with pointed stakes, a military road that connected the forts and allowed any point to be reached quickly and by a deep embankment, the Vallum.

The forts, rectangular in plan, varied in size according to the importance of the garrison, a pattern repeated with slight differences along the entire limes that protected the borders of the empire.

A moat and a wall punctuated by towers protected the perimeter and each side had a gate protected by two massive towers.

Inside were the headquarters — the praetorium where the praefectus castrorum reside; barracks; a hospital; warehouses and latrines, generally under the walls, while the bathrooms were outside the fortifications.

In granary, food supplies were stored to face the harsh winters or possible sieges.

In the Vicus, the civilian settlement, lived the families of the soldiers, often auxiliaries who officially could not marry.

In these villages that grew spontaneously around the forts, merchants, artisans and prostitutes also lived, attracted by the soldiers' wages.

There were also temples dedicated to Roman, local and even oriental deities that reflected the different religions of soldiers from all over the empire because Romans were very tolerant as long as the social order and the emperor were not questioned.

🎥: © pindropandhop via IG

[blueiscoool]

The Stunning Ancient Greek Mosaics of Zeugma

The ancient Greek mosaics of Zeugma in Turkey are true archaeological treasures that can still be admired at the Zeugma Mosaic Museum in Gaziantep, Turkey.

The 30,000-square-meter (320,000 square foot) museum, which opened its doors in September of 2011 is the largest mosaic museum in the world, containing 1,700 square meters (18,000 square feet) of ancient works of art.

The museum focuses on the mosaics found in Zeugma, which was originally founded as Seleucia by Seleucus I Nicator, a general in Alexander the Great’s Army, in 305 BC.

After Alexander’s death, his generals divided his empire among themselves. Although Seleucus moved his main capital to Antioch, Seleucia became an important center of trade, Hellenistic culture, and regional government under the Seleucids.

The city was populated by Greeks, Syrians, and Jews. It was an affluent city with a population of eighty thousand and in the 2nd and 3rd century BC was of sufficient stature to be compared to another great center of Hellenism, Alexandria, in Egypt.

The Roman Empire’s forces conquered the city in 64 BC, renaming it Zeugma (meaning “bridge” or “crossing” in ancient Greek).

The Romans held Zeugma until 253 AD, when the Persian Sassanids conquered the city, putting a violent end to its most significant years.

The ancient Greek mosaics of Zeugma

The treasures of Zeugma, including its vaunted mosaics, remained relatively unknown until the year 2000. Zeugma is now eighty percent underwater after it was flooded with the waters of a nearby artificial lake.

Archaeologists were alarmed at the flooding of the area and immediately began excavations to save the ancient treasures.

Most of the Greek mosaics of Zeugma, which were recovered in excellent condition, belong to the 2nd century BC preceding the Romans.

However, some of the mosaics appear to belong to the Roman era, as they depict Greek and Roman deities together.

In addition, some of the mosaics deviate from purely Hellenistic style and imagery, with archaeologists placing them in the Roman era of the city’s history.

The archaeological site of Zeugma

The archaeological site of Zeugma is a UNESCO World Heritage Center, located ten kilometers (six miles) away from Nizip within the boundaries of Gaziantep.

The preserved parts of the ancient city include the Hellenistic Agora, the Roman Agora, two sanctuaries, the stadium, the theater, two bathhouses, and the Roman legion military base.

Remains of the administrative structures of the Roman legion, the majority of the residential quarters, Hellenistic and Roman city walls, and the East, South and West necropolis can also be found there.

The archaeological site of Zeugma is of immense historical significance in the understanding of the ancient integration of Hellenistic and Semitic cultural spheres and the birth of syncretistic hybrid cultures in the region.

By Philip Chrysopoulos.

[s3znl-gr3znl]

For you

Fuuuuck i really wanna rewatch The 86 for this song alone

The series climax was so special and this like the PERFECT song for it

Psych, this just became a review post.

I love this series. It has its shortcoming with somewhat tired tropes and predictable deaths.

It suffers slightly from what I would call Second Season Syndrome (think 7 Deadly Sins) where they add some shit no one asked for instead of developing our already large and complex cast of characters any further. They introduce a new mcguffin character whose really just an annoying tag-a-long until the finale.

For context, our new mcguffin character is a child that tags along as moral support. Thats their whole bit.

Aside from that its a really solid series with solid themes and characters with a phenomenal ending, so dont let my tiny criticisms dissuade you from watching it!

The mech design is unique, interesting, well thought out, and really fun to watch!

[manicpixiedreamgolem]

December isn't over yet, but I'm heading off on holiday soon so posting the final painting for the month now!

This month I painted several things: Firstly I finished a group of Assault Intercessors I'd been working on for some of November, and the Lieutenant to lead them. I was really hoping to finish the Lieutenant, because he was a Secret Santa gift from last year. I then wanted something quick and easy to pump up the numbers before the end of the year, so went with six Scouts for my templars army, and two Rhinos for my heresy-era Imperial Fists. One rhino can be swapped between normal and Command varieties - not sure I'll ever put the Command one on the table but it's nice to have.

So this year my goal was to get 120 things out of my backlog, by sale or painting, and the final number I ended with was -160, which i'm very pleased with. That was 141 painted, 67 sold, and 48 purchased.

That leaves me with 25 models left, and so my first goal for 2025 is to paint or sell all of those, and end up with nothing in my backlog that was bought before 2025*. That sounds easy but a lot of those are either big monsters, or heroes I want to do a good job on, so I'm a bit dubious!

On top of that I want to end up as low as possible. I don't want to pledge to end at zero because it's very possible there'll be some fun thing I want to buy late in the year (I'm hoping for a Templar release with an army box at some point soon, which would presumably be this year) but generally at "not much".

The specific things I want to paint are 2000pts of Templars, finish my Tau, and I guess pick up whatever bits and bobs for my Lizards and Khorne as they show up. Also, Legions Imperialis!

*Secret Santa and the Solar Auxilia box I haven't broken into yet don't count, they start january first. It looks as if that means I'm starting the new year by adding about eighty models to the pile, embarrassingly.

[ratherxintense]

Layers

The fearless Vulpes Inculta. Enlightened, empowered. A pure extension of mighty Caesar's will. Certain in every judgment. Exacting with every strike. The shadow that reaches across the west, claiming lives for a righteous cause, shaking rotten enemies to their foundations.

Inculta. Leader of the frumentarii. Clever, tenacious. Most loyal to Caesar, and therefore most deserving of respect. When has he faltered where any other would not have faltered worse? Each action a display of his faith, a smile against another requisite spray of gore. They will never dare to question, just as I never dare, just as I beat my legacy into the wasteland's bones.

Mr. Fox. Incorruptible. A false man to instantly embody and just as quickly shed away. A mask to smile at sinners. I will smile and smile and take their secrets to implement against them, and my betrayal will put all the cruelties of all my years to shame, and this time, it will be deserved. But first, I will walk through the steps of a life I might have lived. It isn't mine to have. It is theirs, all the filth and shame of it is theirs. They deserve pain for their nature. Caesar's judgment will find them, as it found the eighty-six tribes before them.

Vulpes. No one can take my loyalty away. And they can only add to my capacity for violence. These two things are all I need. Test me and I will paint the floor with you. Let me demonstrate all the lessons of Caesar's Legion. Caesar will love a demonstration, and he will always love me. I sanctify his war, lace it with all the faithful fervor that he is worthy of. My life for Caesar. My death for Caesar. I will prove my purpose, because no other purpose was left to me. One path forward. Cringe, cower, and perish in an unmarked grave. Or walk the one path with unforgettable pride, end the one life with passion. It was never mine. I can forget it was ever mine.

Fox. I want sharper teeth. My shadow is never large enough. There are greater monsters in the desert. I want to make the desert mine, claw it back from all the things I hate. If I could just hit harder, stay awake another night, make another example. Why did that wastrel laugh at me when I shoved her to the ground? She knew. She saw weakness, and she knew it. She died for it. She died...for her wretchedness, for standing in my way, for mighty Caesar. True to Caesar. True to Caesar.

That asshole with the dog on his head. The degenerates can all die in ignorance. My inferiors can all cower in shame. I understand certain truths that none of them will have to face. Caesar's Legion is humanity's last hope. Caesar wants the best for us? Every alternative is worse. Every last one? I am only inflicting what I was taught. Demonstrating reality. There are worse things I could do. My violence is a mercy. Isn't it pure? Isn't it enough? Will any wicked act finally be enough? Will it finally make me powerful?

Skirt boy. Do I lose or win if I make myself worse? Fail and die a weaker man. Succeed and replace the monster that I hate. Is there such a thing as a better monster? Can I dress in scraps of pride and fervor until the monster looks pretty as it feasts? Can I forget to feel, death-claw-rip-and-tear through every threat until there are no more? I will not stop myself. There will be no more and then I will turn as the deathclaw turned through my camp. I should stop myself. I will not, because stopping is where the fear starts. Stopping is where the old monster catches up. Stop and Hector smiles down at me stop. Stop. Stop.

Gecko. I'm afraid. I'm so afraid. I have always been afraid. Vee warned me about the evil men in the night. I was scared. I was right. She was right. They ripped her away from me. Vee is all gone. All I ever had, all gone, all ripped away. Caesar will not save me. Nothing will save me. Only me and the evil men now. Me and the evil men and me and the evil men and the evil me and the evil in me.

[contrastellar]

i posted about this elsewhere as well -- but i'll post about it here too because i think tumblr will appreciate the full, cohesive thought.

Spoilers for FFXIV: 7.0-7.2, Eighty-Six by Asato Asato and Arknights ahead.

i think part of the reason Sphene from FFXIV: Dawntrail really scratches an itch -- was the knowledge throughout 7.0 that it wasn't really Sphene. It was a simulacrum made from the original Sphene's memories. that was something known from -- decently early on, I want to say?

part of the reason this tickles my brain is that -- i think -- part of me was aware all this time, especially going into 7.0's capstone dungeon and trial that it's painfully obvious that the Queen Eternal does all that she does in order to try and remember every person in her Kingdom, because the real Sphene also wanted to remember every person lost. the Queen Eternal, however, does take that logic to the complete, horrible extreme.

i'm going to reference a couple pieces of non-Final Fantasy media here, which couples with the core of my idea.

the first -- being representative of that notion of wanting to remember -- is Shinei Nouzen from Eighty-Six by Asato Asato. it's obvious from the first episode, and especially poignant in the second, the burden Shinei carries as the leader of Spearhead and the bearer of the personal name "Undertaker". the mercy killing of Kujo in Episode 1 -- the collection of a fragment of Kujo's Juggernaut, and then the collection of fragments that Shinei carries with him on every sortie he performs. every time he goes out to fight the Legion -- he's aware that he might not make it back to base, but it's part of his promise to bring those dead comrades with him to his final destination -- his pledge that dates back to his first squadron in the Eighty-Sixth sector that he cannot ever violate. he states in Episode 4 ("Real Name") that he remembers every single of the five hundred and sixty-one [561] comrades that had been killed to-date. he won't forget. he can't forget. he'd forgotten his parents' faces -- and even that of his brother's until he eventually kills Shourei's ghost later in cour one. he carries all of those names with him.

the second -- that of the perversion of ideals. to this; i look at Arknights. namely Skadi and her possession by Ishar-mla. ultimately, this boils down to a lot of headcanons I have regarding such a storytelling element, but I think the idea remains true anyways. I think that Skadi, if she were to ever 'lose' to Ishar-mla's influence (IS3) -- would be still Skadi if not afflicted by the will of Ishar-mla. her desires, her feelings, would be hers but yet inextricably tainted by that of the Firstborn inhabiting her mind and body. anything she wished -- whether it would be to see those dearest to her again or to flee from them -- would be corrupted by his influence. something no longer in her control -- it's not her body anymore. it belongs to Him.

because of these bits of media that frankly live rent-free in my mind; it's hard to not say that when i look at the Queen Eternal, that I don't see that undying wish of hers -- to remember -- being corrupted by something that isn't herself reflected in other stories that i love.

the Queen Eternal was a construct made from Sphene's memories, but was still not Sphene herself. to keep her precious people in memory forever, she would do anything -- and that is what ultimately leads to the confrontation at the end of 7.0.

however, looking at 7.2 -- something else comes to mind. what would Sphene truly feel about the knowledge of all the suffering wrought by her false-self? it's not without the realm of possibility that this Sphene, the delicate, sorrowful one we see throughout Patch 7.2: Seekers of Eternity could eventually -- with the erosion of four hundred impossible years against her -- do exactly what her Endless self had done. just because she hadn't experienced those four hundred years that the Queen Eternal did, doesn't mean that she might not arrive a similar, horrible conclusion.

however, will such a future come to pass? i'm not so sure of that.

the regulator that was left behind deliberately by Caylx and the Simulant seems to be that which contains the memories of four hundred years of the Queen Eternal's existence; up until the very end. and yet, should Sphene decide to face those memories -- to face the choices that the broken mirror's visage of herself had done -- i'm not sure that given that knowledge, she would come to the same conclusion. this is what truly excites and frightens me going into Patch 7.3 and beyond.

it's my hope that future MSQ delicately and yet beautifully shows us the struggle that Sphene feels at the existence of that broken-mirror past; but also the hope she feels that there's a better way than to siphon aether from the Source and its Reflections.

the tragedy of Sphene is that which is only slowly being told in 7.2 and beyond -- that she doesn't want this for her people, for herself. and yet that which wore her face wrought this, and ghosts of the past perpetuate it. she cant help but feel remorseful about what has happened and will likely happen going forward. and perhaps, that's why I have such a soft spot for her as a character -- especially after 7.2.

[archduchessofnowhere]

Hello! Since you're tumblr's Marie Sophie expert, I was wondering if you've read Lorraine Kaltenbach's Le Secret de la reine soldat: L'extraordinaire soeur de Sissi and in case you have, if you recommend it. It focuses on Marie Sophie's supposed illegitimate daughter; personally I find this story hard to believe and iirc so do you, but Kaltenbach apparently visited several archives around Europe to do her research, so maybe she did find something new.

Hello! Ughh that book. I have a confession to make: years ago I started reading it because well, it's about the alleged illegitimate daughter, if the author really found something about it then it's worth reading it. But I couldn't finish it because it was so badly researched it made me loose all my patience. Kaltenbach is not a historian and it shows:

She dedicates long parragraphs to describe what was she doing and how was she feeling while "researching".

Most of her sources are just newspapers. I'm not against citing newspapers by any means but the way she did Is Not It. With no context given and taken 100% at face value.

But what made me loose it is when she finally reached to the the alleged affair and I realized her main source for it was... Marie Larisch's 1930s books. I kid you not. All that "brand new information" and "uncovering secrets" talk and she was literally just quoting Larisch's gossips as literally everyone else who ever approached the subject.

At that point I gave up and went straight to the part of the alleged daughter, Daisy de Lavaysse. Here's what I'll say on Kaltenbach's defense: this girl seems to have actually existed. She (allegedly) found her death certificate in Paris, the act of recognition by her father, and her baptism certificate in Bavaria. Now she doesn't actually show any of these documents on her book, however someone on Geneanet uploaded this picture on Daisy's page:

This is the supposed death certificate. No need to decipher the writing, this is what it says, quoted by Kaltenbach:

Lavaÿsse-Châteaubourg. Acte n° 39. L'an mille huit cent quatre-vingt- six, le 7 janvier à onze heures du matin, acte de décès de Marie Louise Élisabeth Mathilde Henriette de Lavaÿsse-Châteaubourg, âgée de vingt-deux ans et dix mois, sans profession, née à Munich (Bavière), décédée en son domicile rue des Mathurins, nº 47, le six janvier courant à neuf heures du matin, fille de Charles Felix Emmanuel de Lavaÿsse-Châteaubourg, décédé, et de mère non dénommée, célibataire. Dressé vérification faite du décès par nous, Jérémie Kastler, adjoint au maire, officier de l'état civil du 8e arrondissement de Paris, chevalier de la Légion d'honneur, officier d'Académie, sur la déclaration faite de Georges Adrien Sol de Marquein, âgé de quarante-deux ans, propriétaire, demeurant à Paris, rue de Lisbonne, n° 49, ami de la défunte; et de Henry de Gineste-Najac, âgé de quarante-sept ans, propriétaire, demeurant à Paris, avenue d'Antin, nº 18, ami de la famille, qui ont signé avec nous après lecture.

Translation:

Lavaÿsse-Châteaubourg. Act No. 39. In the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty-six, on January 7 at eleven o'clock in the morning, death certificate of Marie Louise Élisabeth Mathilde Henriette de Lavaÿsse-Châteaubourg, aged twenty-two years and ten months, without profession, born in Munich (Bavaria), died at her home rue des Mathurins, no. 47, on the current January 6 at nine o'clock in the morning, daughter of Charles Felix Emmanuel de Lavaÿsse-Châteaubourg, deceased, and of an unnamed mother, unmarried. Cerification of the death made by us, Jérémie Kastler, deputy mayor, civil registrar of the 8th arrondissement of Paris, knight of the Legion of Honor, officer of the Academy, on the declaration made by Georges Adrien Sol de Marquein, aged forty-two, owner, residing in Paris, rue de Lisbonne, n° 49, friend of the deceased; and Henry de Gineste-Najac, aged forty-seven, owner, residing in Paris, avenue d'Antin, n° 18, friend of the family, who signed with us after reading.

Let's assume the certificate is legitimate. Why didn't she include it on her book? Why the only picture of it is in a genealogy website and seems taken almost in a hurry?

The strongest evidence Kaltenbach does provide in her book are these two alleged pictures of Daisy she claims were on her grandmother's possesion:

Which she puts next to this picture published by Marie Larisch (left) in one of her books, with a girl that allegedly was Daisy (right):

And I'll give her this: these two pictures do seem to be from the same person.

I'm going to be nice and assume that Kaltenbach indeed found all the evidence she claims she did (because again, she does not provide any of the documents that would actually support her claims). What did she found out? That a distant relative of her had an illegitimate daughter born in Bavaria in 1863. That's it. Everything else is pure speculation. Nothing she provides proves that Marie was Daisy's mother. Absolutely nothing. She just speculates for dozens of pages, most of the time making up a story that fits nicely into what she already believed even before starting her research.

Maybe the author was genuinely onto something, perhaps Daisy was an illegitimate daughter of a member of the House of Wittelsbach. Perhaps she was Marie's daughter after all! But she clearly had no idea on how to properly investigate the subject, and because of that any sort of credibility her evidence could have became damaged. She should've delegated the research to a real historian and written a novel instead.

[jazzdailyblog]

George Benson: The Master of Jazz Guitar

Introduction: George Benson, born eighty-one years ago today on March 22, 1943, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, is a virtuoso guitarist and singer whose remarkable career has spanned over six decades. His innovative blend of jazz, pop, and soul has earned him critical acclaim and a legion of devoted fans around the world. Early Life and Musical Beginnings: Benson’s musical journey began at a…

[leareadsheresy]

Mission Statement: Committing to a Mistake

I'm going to read all the Horus Heresy stories. I'm going to do it in publication order.

To be clear, I'm not going to read all the books in publication order; I'm going to read all the stories in publication order. There are a lot of stories that were initially published in, like, Horus Heresy Weekender pamphlets or as web fiction years before they saw print in later anthology volumes. I've made a list. Making it took an evening that would have been better spent on almost any other activity, up to and including just going to bed early, but now I've got it. All I need to do is go back and refine it from publication month to publication day for specifically those stories that were published daily as part of one-story-per-day monthly events, but those don't start to become a factor until much later so no hurry on that.

I haven't decided yet whether I'll listen to audio dramas in cases where a story was first released as an audio drama and later re-released in text. I'm not really a fan of audio books. Also, this includes the Heresy 1st edition Black Books, Primarch novels, and character series novels like Valdor: Birth of the Imperium. All told there are eighty-five books in this list, and if you break it out by individual short stories there's about 253 items, though that does include both short stories and the anthology volumes that compile them, as many anthology volumes that compile previously-published short stories add a framing narrative. If I read one novel's worth of text a week, which to be clear I am absolutely not committing to doing, it'll take me a year and a half.

Why am I doing this? Well, there's a number of reasons.

The first is it's absurd to sink this much energy into being an… enthusiast, I guess you could say, under protest… for a setting while absorbing most of it second-hand, and as a wise man once said, the time will pass regardless. But the second reason, the real reason, is I need to know. I cannot take my understanding of this work being filtered through YouTube Lore Explainers anymore, or worse, overly verbose fan wikis, people who themselves only understand it from watching YouTube Lore Explainers, or people who have read the books but have no critical faculties and read them through the lens of their memories of If the Emperor had a Text to Speech Device. I have to see it for myself. I need to be able to filter the words of the text from the memes.

The third reason is I hope having a long-term project like this will distract me from other stupid projects that might be expensive, like adopting new hobbies.

Why publication order by story instead of publication order by compiled volume or chronology? Well, I'm interested in how the narrative develops over time, not just from an in-universe perspective but from the real-life one as well. I'm interested in, for example, reading Book I: Betrayal in the context of being the first proper Horus Heresy game book published six years into the novel series, and how what it says about the traitor legions on Istvaan III reflects what the novels have said about them up until that point. Also, it ought to help me get through the allegedly terrible Salamanders stories by reading them one at a time in between other works, instead of all at once when I reach Born of Flames.

To amuse myself, I will proceed on the assumption that the Horus Heresy 1st Edition Black Books are flawed in-universe history texts, and the novels are flawed dramatizations, both referring to a hypothetical "real" set of events that cannot be perceived directly. This should insulate me from the worst of the critical whiplash stemming from when an important character from better books shows up and has important character development done awfully in a book that's awful.

Here's my history with the works: Years ago, I read Horus Rising and thought it was pretty decent, if clumsy in its introduction of Samus during the first part of the book. I then read halfway through False Gods and thought it was God damn awful, just taking the character work from the first book out behind the chemical sheds and shooting it in the back of the skull, and I quit the series. Later, I read Book I: Betrayal, about halfway through Book II: Massacre, and skipped ahead to Book III: Extermination because I'm a giant Raven Guard goober for some damn reason. I've also read Deliverance Lost, the Corax anthology, the Corax: Lord of Shadows Primarch novel, and parts of Book VI: Retribution and Book VIII: Malevolence. I will be re-reading all of these as I get to them in the reading order list.

My original plan was to pick up where I left off, but upon realizing that I'd left off halfway through False Gods and not like ten pages into it the way I remembered, I went back to the start of that book, then realized it had been so long since I read it and Horus Rising that I didn't remember which events had happened in which book. So I've started from the beginning again. I am currently about a third of the way through my second read of Horus Rising and have just started Part 2: Brotherhood in Spiderland, which I mention by name here because it's named Part 2: Brotherhood in Spiderland. I expect my next entry in this blog will be thoughts on Horus Rising Part 1: The Deceived, and I'll get around to renovating the appearance of the blog itself thereafter.

If I should fail in this endeavor, lose interest or drift away, good. This is a terrible idea.

And for the record, Lea is pronounced "Lee" and I've read all of Homestuck.

[shazzeaslightnovels]

86: Eighty-Six

Author: Asato Asato

Illustrator: Shirabi

Mecha Designer: I-IV

Label: Dengeki Bunko

Release Date: 10 February 2017

My Score: 5/5

English Release: Yen-Press is currently publishing this series in English.

I struggled to create a summary for this premise so I'll just use Yen-Press's for volume one: "The Republic of San Magnolia has long been under attack from the neighboring Giadian Empire's army of unmanned drones known as the Legion. After years of painstaking research, the Republic finally developed autonomous drones of their own, turning the one-sided struggle into a war without casualties-or at least, that's what the government claims. In truth, there is no such thing as a bloodless war. Beyond the fortified walls protecting the eighty-five Republic territories lies the "nonexistent" Eighty-Sixth Sector. The young men and women of this forsaken land are branded the Eighty-Six and, stripped of their humanity, pilot the "unmanned" weapons into battle..."

To build up from that summary: the volume focuses on Lena, an officer in San Magnolia, as she becomes in charge of the Spearhead squadron, a squadron of the Eighty-Six. In this squadron is a soldier known as the Undertaker and it's rumored that every handler for this squadron goes insane. Lena is more emphatic to the Eighty-Six than most people of the republic and the volume focuses on her confronting her own biases against the Eighty-Six, and her blossoming relationship with the members of the Spearhead squadron, particularly the undertaker himself, Shin.

I've been wanting to read this series for a long time, but I got scared because I'm not great at reading military fantasy in Japanese, and I heard this one is very difficult to read. The volume was heavily discounted on Bookwalker recently so I decided it was finally time to read it. Thankfully, it wasn't too bad. Yeah, I had a bit of a struggle following some of the battle scenes, but there aren't that many of them and the volume tends to focus more of the human drama then on the battles.

And that human drama element is very well written. I was so invested in the story and the characters, even as I knew how the story would turn out from watching the anime. I'm obviously not an expert, but I feel like this series is one of the better portrayals of fantasy racism in fiction. It shows how racism is systemic and that it is created by people in power wanting to keep their power. The volume does a great job at exploring that.

The prose was also really good, especially during the emotional moments. Honestly, I wasn't too interested in the Shin/Lena romance in the anime, but I understood the appeal here. It is pretty cute to see two people form a connection without ever seeing one another.

I did want to rewatch the anime for this review, but it adapts the volume across 11 episodes and I didn't have time to watch more than the first two. But I do think that it is a really good adaptation that builds on the strengths of the source material. The music is amazing (The Answer has been stuck in my head for the last week), and I appreciate that they added some anime original content, like episodes 10 and 11 (unless these end up being in volume 2 which I doubt). It expanded on the source material in meaningful ways and it's definitely worth the watch.

I'm glad I finally read this volume, because I loved it more than I thought I would. I'm definitely going to be reading more when I get the chance.

[akariamai]

Welcome to Spearhead

Shinei Nouzen x OC

Word Count: 2321

Like an infestation, war trickled into every aspect of the lives of those the Republic of San Magnolia deemed to be less than. Those who do not possess fair skin and light hair were sent to internment camps, located in the wasteland beyond the walls of the city. The conditions of the internment camps were despicable — almost uninhabitable. Memories of sharing a horse stall with her family of four were engraved in her mind. Her family was shove into the stall — still full of shit — were left to tidy what was now there new home. Old forgotten hay laid bare on the floor as her mother and father shared the same feeling of helplessness. Her twin sister scrunched her nose in disgust as the vile stench of shit infiltrated her nostrils. Her mother put on a courageous facade before attempting to imbue the stall with a sense of home. She invested a considerable amount of time and effort in her endeavors but ultimately failed.

The family of four was given a month of peace before their mother and father received recruitment letters, promising citizenship and freedom for five years of service. Their father, cursed with his sense of pride, mindlessly accepted. The thought of dying and never seeing his family again hadn’t crossed his mind once. It was his family that kept him alive through the dark horrors of war but captivating notions were not enough to stop the autonomous AI-controlled drones known as the Legion. He perished believing in a lie.

Her mother struggled with her father’s absence. He was her pillar of strength; as long as he stayed by her side, she would always prevail. He was gone now, participating in a war for false promises. She stressed for his safety and health, as well as the survival of her children. She proceeded to smile though it was far less bright. Her children needed her to be in the present; to survive the harsh realities of the internment camp. It wasn’t long before her mother was taken from the sisters, a rebellion against their suppressors turned deadly, and her mother became an unforeseen casualty. Her body buried in an unmarked grave.

“Promise me.” Warm gentle hands held onto hers, “Promise we’ll stay together. That we’ll always have each other.”

“I promise.” Reva whispered.

Once the two sisters realized their father wasn’t coming back from the battlefield, they decided to join. The people, now referred to as the Eighty-six, grasped onto the realization no one was ever coming back. There was no freedom after five years of service. It was a mere lie to get the Eighty-six to enlist.

Reva saw her comrades die at the hands of the Legion. Friends she once smiled and laughed with. Their forms left bruised and battered, while their spirits departed, leaving their bodies cold. She heard the pain-filled cries of her twin sister before she perished with the rest of their comrades.

“Wraith!”

Reva, during the heat of battle, fought her way towards her sister’s irreparably destroyed Juggernaut. Her emblem splattered in blood — her blood — and a lifeless corpse surrounded decimated bricks from the ruins of a nameless city. She fired at the Legion, who stood above her sister’s body, relentlessly. Her finger pulled on the trigger countless of times to ensure her sister’s murderer could no longer move.

“Fuck you!” She screeched, unleashing a rage she didn’t know she had. “Just die!” She didn’t know how long she persistently battered the once mobile machine but once her madness subsided, it was nothing more than scrap metal.

The handler, an older man with an unpleasantly croaky voice, declared, “The Legion are retreating, the other Juggernauts are unresponsive, you’ll be transferred immediately.” The transmission ended with no condolences or congratulations. The Eighty-six’s were nothing but lambs to the slaughter, destined to die for the Alba. An unfamiliar ache etched into her beating heart would unknowingly become a reminder of her loneliness.

She heavily climbed out of her own Juggernaut, the corpse of her deceased sister lying motionless a few meters away of her iron coffin. The reality of the situation seemed to seep in as the sky above began to weep.

Her sister’s name lingered in the back of her throat as she stumbled closer. Breathing almost became too difficult as hiccups threatened to erupted from her lips. Her salty tears camouflaged with the raindrops trailing down her rosy cheeks. Her sister’s lifeless body laid above a growing pool of deep crimson blood, her clothing drenched in red. Once vibrant sapphire eyes faded into a dull emptiness. Reva wanted to roar into the darkness in despair. Embracing her sister tightly against her chest, she instinctively sought to shield her sister from the rain, a futile gesture.

“I’m sorry.” Reva barely choked out. She laid a gentle farewell kiss on her forehead, praying to one day see her again, and used her bare hands as tools to lay her sister to rest in the Earth. The downpour made it utterly frustrating but she persevered. Her sister deserved a burial. Mud soiled her pants as she crouched down onto the muddied floor, her hands shoveling away the filthy water and grime.

Hours must have passed as the daybreak glimmered through the dark clouds. The heavens wept no more, it’s tears all gone. It was the start of a new day without the constant presence she was familiar to; a sunrise her sister would never get to see. She solemnly limped back to her Juggernaut and returned to the deteriorating building she once shared with her squadron. Instead of dirtying the sanitize floors, she waited in her sullied clothing for her transportation.

~~~

The Alba men assigned to transport her to her new squadron showered her with dirty looks. Their light eyes acted as daggers; deadly if their glares could inflict pain. “Filthy pig,” They muttered under their breath, “Change!”

Reva didn’t bother to move. She had spent hours pondering over the loss of her sister. What gave these men, who were complacent when their neighbors were stripped of their human rights, the right to order her around. They were nobodies forced to work in close proximity to the Eighty-six, acting as mere errand runners with no true purpose or nobility.

“What are you waiting for?” They viewed her as nothing more than livestock; in need of control. They tenaciously held onto the perceived sense of superiority, ingrained by the institution that unlawfully detained the Eighty-six, over her being. Undisturbed by the objections from the men, she confidently moved towards her four-wheeled prison, closing her eyes once she found a spot that would be untouched by the machinery.

Once the men noticed she was not responding to their demands, the older man reached out his arm to drag her out without a care of her well-being. Despite her striking resemblance to a human, the “unnatural” color of her being prevented her from being perceived as such. His hand refrained from making contact with her form as she skillfully twisted his arm and forcefully directed his body to the ground. The Alba men before her have never seen the battlefield; they have never bared the hardships that came with war. They willfully lived ignorant of the truth behind “the war with no casualties.”

The younger man hurried to the aid of his comrade, assisting his higher-up, all the while casting wary glances at the girl, apprehensive that she might persist in her assault. “Are you okay?” The two men refused to take their eyes off of her as if she were a barbaric animal, ready to pounce at any given moment. Realization washed over them as they unwillingly accepted her decision and carried on with their assigned duties.

She remained unaware of the men successfully loading up her Juggernaut or her transport advancing to another battlefield — a battlefield she may very well perish. Her back kissed the metal plating, as the tenderness of her body hit her with the momentum of a speeding train.

Time slipped by before the entrance opened and the light flowed in like a never ending stream of welcoming ambiance. “Get out.” The men left her unattended, apprehensive of her being, standing by for her to step out and allow them to work. She ignored them, absorbing what would be her new home for the foreseeable future. There were two buildings in range of her sight. The first was a weather worn barracks�� hangar where the Juggernauts and other military equipment would be stored away, although the Eighty-six were not supplied with adequate gear or materials. The second was a rundown building; the place where she and the other Eighty-six would occupy themselves in. There was nothing glamorous about the building; there were noticeable cracks on the exterior and foliage sprouting to one day overtake the structure.

“So you’re the new recruit,” A man with an unkempt field uniform roamed closer to her. “Welcome to Spearhead.” He noticed the dried mud, flaking due to the movement of her clothing, and assumed the two Alba men must’ve tussled her around before transporting her. It wasn’t uncommon for the transport team to harass, even assault, the Eighty-six.

She nodded her head and gave him a pathetic smile. He was pleasant, she noted, by his subtle attempts to respect her personal space. By the condition of her clothing, it would be a rather fair assumption the Alba men physically attacked her; however, she would not get too familiar with him or the others in this squadron. Death awaited them, even herself. She will soldier on without the support of her sister, without a purpose to continue living. She will die on the battlefield; her existence disregarded while the life is scuffed from her body, countless of miles away from her sister’s resting place.

“The name’s Raiden Shuga; personal name: Wehrwolf.” To bear a personal name was a minimal act of respect Processors could offer veterans of the war, who returned from death’s door countless times.

Returning the sentiment, she offered him her true and personal name, “I’m Reva Nakamura; personal name: Hellfire.”

Where Wraith goes, Hellfire follows, a phrase old comrades used to comment. Two veterans whose coordination—without a single word uttered—reigns supreme among the other Processors. He was told, “They were two halves of a whole, you would never see one without the other.” Yet, here Hellfire stood without her other half; presumably dead and Raiden knew better than to mention it.

Instead he acknowledged her, masking the recognition of her personal name, “I’ll show you around, introduce you to the others. Some are busy with chores but you’ll see them afterwards.”

The Spearhead squadron had plenty of members, each a veteran in their own right, each with a story to tell. No matter how often she was transferred, seeing new young faces left a horrendous taste in her mouth. They were all going to succumb to the Legion; it was not a matter of if, but a matter of when. Death cradled them, awaiting for their gut wrenching cries of anguish and grief; to carry them away from the suffering of this bleak existence.

Forever wasn’t meant for them. It was more for the last person standing to uphold the memories of the deceased, although those memories will only persevere if they manage to stay alive. Living, however, does not guarantee memories will stay intact — memories fade through age or vanish in death. They were not meant to linger for eternity. Their sacrifices will not be remembered by the generations to come, only lost in the sea of nameless corpses.

“Reva, given a new change of clothing by Anju, a comrade who bore some resemblance to the Alba with only her eyes countering those thoughts, stepped into the dining room. After being given a bowl of soup, she sought to sit alone but instead was ambushed by her comrades surrounding her with probing questions. The one who lead the charge was Kurena, a rather young girl with chestnut-colored hair and catlike Topaz eyes. Once she heard the infamous Hellfire was sent to their squadron, she couldn’t contain her curiosity. Reva was nothing like the image she had conjured up in her mind. She’d imagined an unyielding woman harden by the numerous battles she’d face, instead the person before her was a girl like her.

“How did you get the name Hellfire?”

“Where were you from?”

“What do you like to do in your free time?”

Reva swallowed another spoonful of soup, made from overgrown fresh vegetables the group scavenged from the ruins of the nameless city. It was better than the horrendous rations the Alba sent the Eighty-six.

“My family comes from the United Kingdom of Roa Gracia, but I was born in the Republic.” Certain questions were ignored; they carried memories she’d wish to forget. Instead of being offended for the unanswered questions, they assumed unpleasant memories were tied to them, and moved on. They were strangers to her, after all, she didn’t need to speak to them but she did.

The group spoke about themselves as well, giving her the opportunity to enjoy her meal uninterrupted without pausing to answer questions. They collectively mentioned their captain would always be found with his nose in a book, Theo pencil in hand would sketch away in his notebook, Kurena bears the role of the group’s cherished little sister, to which she whined was not true, and so many more.

Shin, one of the many nicknames he’s been given, sat away from the group. He listened to them giving the newbie insight on each member of the squadron; an attempt to get her familiar to them. Another name he may have to carry before his death; another burden to shoulder in the battlefield. At the moment, he was content that his friends were cheerful. Moments like these were scarce. Each day could be someone’s last.

Masterlist

[my-anime-list]

86 EIGHTY-SIX Part 2

Following Lena's departure, Shin and the remaining Spearhead squadron members venture deep into Legion territory, enduring numerous challenges until they are rescued by the reformed nation, Federal Republic of Giad. This new home offers them a chance at peace and normalcy, but the Eighty-Six cannot ignore their sense of duty for long. They return to the battlefield, enlisting in the military and bringing along a new ally, Frederica Rosenfort, a young girl with exceptional abilities and wisdom beyond her years. Unfortunately, the last two episodes faced production issues, necessitating a delay from January to March 2022 for their airing.

[abuddyforeveryseason]

This is the Buddy for August 28th. You can see the wings are made out of cigarettes.

It's Jack Kirby's birthday! Kirby is my favorite comic book artist - even though I didn't grow up with his art. I started reading Kirby comics as already an adult, but I couldn't help but enjoy them more than the artists I'd read as a kid - maybe with John Romita Jr being an exception, but his artstyle's pretty similar to Kirby. I wonder if that caused conflict in the Romita residence. Like if Romita Senior was asking his son who his favorite artist is, and Junior would say "Of course it's you, dad..." and glance nervously at his pile of Kirby comics.

Although John Romita's a fun artist too.

But there's something unique about Kirby. It might be because he was drawing comics with a lot of interesting visuals like alien worlds, alternate realities, ancient countries, spaceships, and Romita was stuck doing New York soap operas with supervillains dressed like animals showing up from time to time.

Jack Kirby drew a lot, too - the characters he co-created include Captain America, the Newsboy Legion, the Boy Commandos, the Silver Age Sandman, the Fantastic Four, the Hulk, Iron Man, the X-Men, Thor, the Inhumans, Spider-Man (who was designed and drawn by Steve Ditko, yeah, but Jack Kirby drew the first cover), the golden age Vision, Ant Man, Silver Surfer, Black Panther, the New Gods (including Darkseid and the Highfather), Mister Miracle and Big Barda, the Forever People, Devil Dinosaur, the Eternals and the Celestials, Kamandi, OMAC, the Demon, Nick Fury (and the Howling Commandos), Atlas (in one issue), the Wasp, Machine Man (in the 2001 comics), and even obscure but great eighties and nineties works like Captain Victory, the Phantom Force, Satan Six, Silver Star, Destroyer Duck (with Steve Gerber) and so on.

I've been a huge fan of Kirby for years, and if I don't read as many Kirby comics nowadays, it's just because there aren't too many I haven't read left. So, today's Buddy is a bit of an homage to my favorite artist.

[colleenmurphy]

Mr & Mrs. James Alexander Murphy request the honor of your presence at the marriage of their daughter

Mary Colleen Murphy

to

Peter Donald Kosnosky

Son of Mr. and Mrs. Stanisław Kosnosky

on Tuesday the Twenty-Second of July Nineteen hundred and eighty-six at Nine-thirty in the morning at St. Ann's Catholic Church, Briar Green NY

Reception to follow afterwards at the Briar Green Legion Hall on Route 29.

[ratherxintense]

Flashback

Night had fallen in Freeside.

Vulpes had settled on the second-story of a pre-war shop, now effectively a rooftop, as the ceiling and most of the walls had crumbled away in years past. From where he sat in one corner on his bedroll, he could look down on the streets, mostly darkness, but lit in patches by lamps and sputtering barrel fires.

A few rats could be seen running in the gutters. Starved, exhausted bodies huddled by their fires, or sprawled alone on the cracked concrete, surrounded by trash.

Alone. All of these people were so alone.

Vulpes had never struggled with culture shock. As part of the Legion that had conquered eighty-six tribes, he had seen all manner of societies - the savage and the tame, the enlightened and the ignorant - but this was no society at all. No culture or background unified these weak and drug-addled shadows. They called themselves nothing, believed in nothing. Each birth and death on their dirty streets was suffered alone.

Vulpes watched with tired eyes as one of the rats began gnawing at the limp hand of a passed-out ghoul. Then it began biting in earnest, tearing. Vulpes wondered if the ghoul would wake before he lost a hand.

"Go back to sleep."

Vulpes quickly turned toward the voice.

"I've never...known any place like this before."

"It's no good here, is it?" Not really a question, but a knowing suggestion.

"It's not what I had hoped." Mighty Caesar deserved better than this place. The Legion would have no choice but to reforge their great city from a pile of filth. A second battle for the dam would be only a start.

"It could be so much better, you know. Shouldn't be so hard for people to just...be kind to one another." That voice, it was the one civilized thing for miles. Reasonable and...assuring.

Vulpes replied with just a nod.

"Get some rest, 'wool-pace'. I'll make sure there's no trouble."

"I will. Thank you, Hector."